


Heart Off Your Sleeve

by Fudgyokra



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble Collection, Fluff and Angst, Love/Hate, M/M, Prompt Fill, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 02:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16610261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fudgyokra/pseuds/Fudgyokra
Summary: “Oh, Batman, the things you don’t know about me could fill a book.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These drabbles were written back in September of 2017, but in going through and cleaning out my old blog, I realized I never actually posted them here!

 

> **7\. “I almost lost you.”**

It was only a common thug, and he could’ve handled it if he’d been in sounder mind than he was tonight. The man had Bruce by the throat with his wrists chained behind his back, and the struggle that was only just beginning between them brought a rather interesting visitor in the form of the Joker, who did not look in the mood to play.

“Hands off the merchandise,” he said, aiming a gun at the thug’s head, “or here in a second, your insides are gonna be on the outside.”

“Don’t,” Bruce commanded, aiming a kick back at the thug, who let go of him immediately and dropped to his knees with a groan. “Now is not the time.”

Joker scowled. “How about a ‘thank you’?”

Bruce was poised to say something else, but the words died on his tongue with the crack of a gun. It shouldn’t have surprised him when the stinging pain ripped through his abdomen, but somehow it did. Before he could process a single thought, he was kneeling and casting manic eyes up at Joker, offering what he thought might have been a goodbye.

The thug laughed and got him by the throat again, but the moment his free hand reached for the cowl, Joker put a bullet straight through his brain.

“ _Joker_ ,” Bruce ground out, hitting the signal on his belt for his car, “you shouldn’t have—” The words fell on deaf ears. Instead, Joker dropped to his knees before him and cradled his face in his hands.

“Hold still,” he murmured, almost affectionately. “This is gonna hurt.”

//

Bruce didn’t remember passing out, but when he came to, he was in the Bat-mobile with a stone-faced Joker in the passenger seat, legs propped on the dash as he stared vacantly out the window. Panic was his first instinct. He reached down to touch his wound, expecting blood and instead coming to the realization that he’d been crudely patched up with pieces of the other’s shirt—a glaring purple tourniquet against his dark suit.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“What I had to,” Joker answered, looking at him from his peripheral.

“You killed him,” Bruce said suddenly, narrowing his eyes. “Where is—”

“I almost lost you.” The interruption plunged them both into silence for a second. Joker regarded him seriously, reverently, _admiringly_. Then, in the space of a single breath, the usual grin split across his face with alarming forwardness. “Ha. You owe me for that shirt. It was custom-made, you know.”

Bruce looked down at the tattered remains Joker wore, feeling a weird flip in his stomach at the exposed skin. Skin and bone, really. It wasn’t a healthy look. Dumbly, he replied, “Why would you care if I died?”

“Then I would’ve wasted that shirt for nothing,” Joker said, already reaching for the door.

A hand shot out to grab him by the arm. Green eyes met blue, aflame, pupils shrinking and dilating while the processes of his brain worked themselves out. Then, finally, Bruce said, “Thank you.”

Joker laughed once, without humor. “I think you can do better than that, Batman.” He leaned toward him, across the console, and Bruce paled at the implication.

“You’re—” The word ‘crazy’ hung in the balance, unspoken but heavily implied. Joker had the gall to roll his eyes, but his flirtatious smile was suddenly inches closer than it was before, red lips parted just a fraction.

“Go ahead, say it,” he taunted. His eyes flickered up to meet Bruce’s again, and the latter felt a weight like lead in his chest. Stubbornly, he remained silent. Joker put a hand on his chest. When he ghosted his mouth across Bruce’s, for only a moment, it felt strange. Strange, but right. “You’re _welcome_ ,” he muttered, before pulling away and pushing the door open.

Despite the voice telling him he shouldn’t, Bruce let him go.


	2. Chapter 2

 

> **14\. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”**

Bruce wasn’t sure he’d heard right. His frown was all that was visible past the mask, but somehow his surprise translated perfectly well to Joker, who grinned wickedly at him from across the cell. “You heard me. We’re on the same side tonight. I won’t let them take you away from me, mon amour.”

“Very funny,” Bruce replied mechanically, already steeling himself for the identity reveal that he knew the police were gearing toward.

“I mean it,” Joker said, laughing as though this were particularly funny. “That’s why I stole the cell key.”

Bruce blinked once, twice, three times. “You _what?_ ”

On cue, Joker brandished the key from an unknown location on his body; Bruce didn’t really want to know where. “I’ve had this baby from the moment we set foot in here, Bat-cakes.”

“Why haven’t you let us _out?_ ”

Joker tutted. “What do you take me for? I want to hear you say ‘thank you,’ first!”

Bruce’s lip curled. “Forget it.”

“You know they can’t keep me in Arkham forever, right? What is this city going to do with a crazy clown on the loose, but no Batman to stop him?”

There was a pause. Then, Bruce grumbled something inaudible. “Come again?” Joker asked, putting a hand to his ear for the sake of theatrics.

Grudgingly, Bruce grit out a “Thank you.”

Joker hummed, pleased, and hopped up to unlock the door. “Who says daddy doesn’t take good care of you?” he asked, standing aside as the cell swung open.

“Shut up,” Bruce muttered, just before he took the other by the hand and fled the containment unit.

“Love you, too!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Chapter involves a trans man's unplanned pregnancy.

> **27\. “I’m pregnant.”**

One bad day, Bruce thought bitterly. It was supposed to have been a one-off thing and then they could forget about it, but they wound up here instead.

He’d tried to hide it for as long as he could, but pretty soon the sickness took over, and one wrong move sent him hurdling to his knees and retching over the side of the building. God help whoever was walking down below…

Joker’s brows knitted together. “Come on, get up! I’m not done with you yet!” He waved the knife in his hand tauntingly, waiting for Bruce to come back with his usual right hook.

This was bad. He couldn’t afford to be out of commission for nine months. Worse, he couldn’t just disappear as the Batman while news of billionaire Bruce Wayne’s goddamn _pregnancy_ went viral. The only option that made sense made his stomach turn. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do.

They’d used a condom, hadn’t they? He didn’t really remember. All he remembered was their usual game going haywire with one brush in the right spot, and suddenly he had Joker against the wall, perfectly civil and more than willing to comply with a little change of pace.

Joker, right. He was still monologuing above him. Hesitantly, he got to his feet, clutching his stomach.

“Are you all right, dearest?” Joker teased, balling a fist and rearing his arm back to punch.

Bruce caught his hand faster than usual. “Don’t,” he hissed, nearly cracking the other’s arm with the force he used to shove him away.

“God, what crawled up your hooch and died?” Joker asked.

Bruce flinched, stupidly. Joker’s pupils shrank. “Don’t say anything,” the former said quickly, avoiding eye contact.

Joker took a step away from him and ran a hand through his hair. “This is all some sort of sick joke, yeah? Ha, ha, way to pull one over on me.”

“No, you idiot,” Bruce hissed, “I’m pregnant.”

Joker looked strangely hurt. “Oh, no,” he said, genuine fear in his voice. “That can’t be right. I can’t—not again—”

“Again?” Bruce asked, eyes flickering to the other’s pallid face. His eyes were electric, moving back and forth like he was watching moths flutter. “Joker? Joker!” He gripped the man’s shoulders and shook, startled when he collapsed to his knees with his head in his hands.

“Oh, no,” Joker repeated, softer this time.

Bruce didn’t know what else to do but join him on the ground. For several minutes, they just sat there contemplatively, while the nausea hit Bruce for an entirely different reason this time. He didn’t know what possessed him to say it, but the words were out before he could think better of them. “I’m keeping it.”

Joker looked like a different man, with his eyes serious and his mouth a tight frown. “You can’t promise me that,” he said, almost accusingly.

Bruce didn’t know what had happened to make him like this, but the absurdity of it all made him wonder why they’d been doing this for so long, anyway. What was going to make Joker change? Nothing.

“I can,” Bruce lied.

“And when it all comes crashing down again…”

“I’ll be there for that, too.”


	4. Chapter 4

> **38\. “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”**

Bruce reasoned that he had to have taken a _hell_ of a beating to end up unconscious, but he didn’t remember anything he’d done tonight that would’ve put him out. A few punches here and there, sure, but not bad enough to make him pass out.

For a long time, all he did was stare at the sky as the inky darkness faded into a hazy dawn. _Shit._ Alfred was no doubt worried sick.

When he stood, there was a faint, pulsing pain just above his brow.

“Oh, lookie who decided to wake up!”

Bruce bristled and spun around in time to see the Joker, looking eerily radiant in the dim daylight. He didn’t think he’d look so out of place without the backdrop of night, but, to be fair, he supposed he looked no better. “What happened?” he asked, clenching his fists.

Joker held up a hand. “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

Bruce’s brows lifted, then shot down like daggers. “You’re lying.”

“Au contraire, Batsy. I am as honest as a saint.” Here, Joker paused to press his palms together in a mockery of prayer. “It actually kind of disrupted my night, thank you very much! Our lovely frenemy the Scarecrow doused you with a big ol’ hit of _something_ , and you were out like a light.” He mimicked pulling a lamp cord and made a sound to follow.

“How did you… _Why_ did you…”

“If you thought I was going to let that bastard kill you, you really don’t understand why I’m here.”

Bruce’s mouth went dry. “What are you talking about?”

Joker’s grin had faded into a line, making his lips a vibrant red slash across his face. “Now that’s not a very nice tone to take with the man who saved your life, is it? Oh, the things I do for love.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes when Joker stepped closer, fluttering lashes at him suggestively with his hands clasped near his chin. “That’s a pretty bad joke, even for you,” he said when he finally remembered how to make his mouth work.

He nearly missed the way Joker scowled thanks to how quickly he turned his face away from him. “Ha. You think that’s a _joke_.” After a second, he looked at him, smile back in place. “Ha, ha, ha,” he added humorlessly, getting closer with every breath.

There must have been something about Bruce’s expression that Joker liked, because the smile grew. “Oh, Batman, the things you don’t know about me could fill a book.”


End file.
